Coming and Going: Learning to Leave

May 3, 2011

There is a point in life where you wonder how things became the way you never expected them to be. In the church life was grand at first for me, after all it was a great escape from my previous life of promiscuity and self-hate. As a young adult Rick was unhappy to be home in our little desert town, he lived in Santa Monica with the pastor of our “mother church”. He was happy with the salty air and life of possibilities in the beautiful city, (college, career and success). He went to the school the church ran and he graduated with ambition to reach the sky. He rode his bike everywhere and worked at an awesome place, Koo Koo Roo. Life was his and he was going to live it, until he decided to come home. He had visions about what amazing things he could do but he never expected to be told that education was second to church obligations.

Once he started playing for worship service and eventually leading it, he slowly lost the support and ambition to seek out the career he wanted to. He was discouraged in every way- don’t seek an education in college. The goal was, get a job, almost any job, and pay your tithes. Church activities must be priority and if you’re not at outreach you were looked upon as if you did something wrong. Rick worked his butt off to attend apprenticeship courses, work and do his chores no matter what time he got home-no matter how tired he was. You see he moved straight in with the pastor of our church when he left Santa Monica and paid a good amount of rent. He went through a lot of scrutiny and petty disciplinary issues. Looking back he realized how difficult it was to wake up at three in the morning to go to work, having to drive two hours and spend eight hours working and on his way home he drove to his apprenticeship courses. He would then have to drive home just to make dinner for about seven people and wait up until everyone finished dinner, he was exhausted.

Rick was miserable and I became his escape as he did mine. He admits that although he had a rough time living there at the house he did learn so many positive and life lessons. We both did, we learned how to live and how not to live as well. During our attendance at the church I became miserable and began drinking before and during church-just like old times. I felt stuck in that place and so did Rick. There was this sense of manipulation in which the people in the church would make you feel absolutely “special and valuable” but they also knew how to make you feel worthless and easily replaceable… the pastor included. Rick was often praised for the good job he would do busting his ass then he was completely ridiculed for missing a church function because he had to work. He knew that he was easily replaceable and he was the lap-dog.

I found my way out of the miserable surge of church tragedies and deaths; I drank and put on a happy face. Everything I did for the church was discouraged by the “leaders” and their family members. Every strike of depression hit me and I was shut down, pushed away and talked about. A strike of depression hit me when I confided in the pastor in complete confidence and he found it “necessary” to share most of my family’s business with the “leaders” in the church.

 I felt complete depression when I was pregnant with my son and dragged myself to church nine months pregnant and still groggy from Phenergan a medication to keep me from throwing up everything I consumed, even water. (I was on Phenergan my whole pregnancy.) I was miserable, I had nothing to wear and I felt depression like I hadn’t felt before. One morning prior to leaving to church I slipped on a pink sleeveless turtle-neck that hugged my belly tightly; I knew it looked cute and I actually felt somewhat confident. Feeling dizzy at church I walked to the back to get some water to soothe my nausea. I stopped to greet one of the leaders’ wives, a “friend” of our family; she proceeded to talk in a pleasant manner. But what she said next hit me hard and I remember the words sharply, “Your shirt is very tight and the brothers in the church might be distracted. There are men out there that are attracted to pregnant women.” After those words I don’t remember what else she said. I blocked every word she spoke out of my head; I was too distracted by the picture in my head. I pictured my fist plunging into the bitch’s face.

I continually felt complete depression after I had my son; I researched post-partum depression and knew I was suffering from it. However, I was told that Christians don’t get those types illnesses. I suffered through it terribly and had no one to talk to about what I was feeling… suicidal and distant from my beautiful baby.

Things in the church went on like this up until the day we left. Leaving the church was the best choice Rick and I ever made for our family. We have experienced so much, been through so much and learned so much. I believe we would have never had these opportunities to learn if we had stayed locked into that church. I believe we would have never experienced the events that would immediately follow leaving that church.

Drag Me to Hell-Or Church About the Same

I can remember when I first stepped foot in the church I was going to attend for almost 10 years. The night before my mom dragged me into church I had told her that I was going to stay the night at my friend’s house and my friend told her mom she was going to stay at my house and one more time another friend claimed to stay at one of our houses. Of course we weren’t going to stay at either of our houses; we were going to a party. Our time at the party didn’t last into the early morning; in fact I don’t even think it lasted very long, because everyone knows that the trick of “staying at each other’s houses” doesn’t work. By the time my mom was at the party I had already smoked enough weed and drank enough alcohol to not even care about the trouble I would be in. In fact I had such an awesome time and I will never forget that night. When I got home my mom yelled at me and told me to get in the shower.

The next morning she told me to get up we were going to church, oh shit was I that screwed up that we needed to go to church that morning, nope going to church was a combination of family issues and so much more. I figured we were going to attend the same church we often did The Holy Family Catholic church. But we ended up at a church in an industrial building behind KFC. I seen a few people I recognized from school but my attention was so far from where I was, I was still high.

From that service on my mom was hooked, of course the “friendly” people huddled around my mom and “welcomed” her. I had no choice but to attend the church with her, if I was in some shit she would say I needed to go. If I wanted to go somewhere I would have to earn the privilege and attend church first. I hated being there and I hated the irritating people, I didn’t want to talk to anyone nor did I want anyone to talk to me. It went on like this for a while, I found it normal to attend church so I adapted to it. If I was going to sit in church for almost three hours I was going to do it the way I wanted to, I would get high before I went and I would do my school work while sitting in those wretched ugly-brown metal chairs.

I was a freshman in high school and I vowed to not involve myself with boys, drugs or drinking, but then I met a boy that I really wanted to be with. We started dating and everything changed. He would attend church with me and shit did we attend that church. I would roll joints in his glove compartment which was awesome because it folded down like a table. After smoking down to a roach we would sit through the church service then leave. I got looks that would kill and looks of disgust. But I didn’t care. People in the church would come up to me and ask if I knew where I was going when I die. I would be told that if I didn’t accept Jesus Christ into my heart that I was going to hell. When I was high or tripping I would get weirded out and start tripping. I was continually confronted about the status of my soul, I didn’t know the status of my soul, nor did I care. I was tired of being asked about my spiritual life; the funny thing was that out of all the people that asked me about my spiritual life none were women.

I knew those church people were more screwed up than I was. I wondered why they lived their life the way they did. I couldn’t understand their hypocrisy; I heard gossiping around me and stupidity. I couldn’t understand what was so great about church life if there was the same shit outside those doors. Although I didn’t understand it, I was at a point in my life where I was so desperate to feel accepted and forgiven. I had fucked up bad and I was in a relationship that could have been seen as an adult relationship- rater R or sometimes NC-17. I was tired of the screwed up lies he consistently told me and I was sick of cheating on him and downgrading myself (even when I enjoyed being with other guys). Being so sexually active is a part of Bipolar disorder, its part of a high of a grandiose feeling. My doctor continually asks me “do you fantasize about being with multiple partners”, thankfully I don’t but looking back now I can see when I was in my highs and lows.

I was slowly seeking whatever the church members claimed to be a life saver. I was slowly ceasing to hate the people in the church, including my husband before he was my husband (whom I mocked with my sister). He led the worship service and my sister and I would say what a dork he was, but I started to like him, not yet as a soul mate but as a pretty cool guy.

Was I that desperate though- that I was about to transform into a liar and a manipulated-follower? Was I that needy that I needed to seek acceptance from the ill-educated people that sucked up to the pastors? What was it that enticed me to embark on a journey that would change my life significantly? Was it the bout of depression that hit me at the very moment that I misguidedly accepted “Jesus” into my life? How will this new life style affect my Bipolar? Questions I never knew to ask or never knew at all.

The Saga of a Manipulated Religion

There are many people who say they are truly dedicated to God or Jesus Christ but when I hear their perception of religion I can’t help but to laugh. I laugh not at them but at my experiences with religion and God. Being involved in a church was positive in some ways but completely negative in other ways, more negative than positive. When I first got involved in the church I hated it, my mom made me attend. When I got “saved” I began to become friends with girls who were just as bad as the bitches in high school. My secrets and personal experiences weren’t kept personal, oh no… there were words and telephone rumors. I tried though, I tried to let shit go and that was a full challenge in itself.

I got involved in working for the pastor and his wife, I was a nanny and I also cleaned their house. I have always earned money on my own, whether it was working for my friends’ parents or babysitting for my parents’ friends. So when this offer came along to work I couldn’t reject it, besides it became a perfect opportunity for me to ditch the slutty mistake I made the night before I began working. I intended to make money but I never intended to become so attached to the family.

On top of the bitchy gossip I also received the worst back stabbing and jealousy from not only the church girls but also from the women in the church. You see being close to the pastor meant, “you were special and in higher authority of others”. I wanted money, not a kiss ass relationship that would boost my status in the church.  People kissed so much ass in order to earn the “respect” of the pastor and leaders of the church. Leaders, oh shit, liars and judges, is what it was when it came to their characters. Of course most of them would argue their innocents but this isn’t the forum for that this is an opportunity for me to share my story of embarrassment, hate, lies and betrayal.

Although my religious experience was ridiculous and fucked up, I did gain so much love from someone special. My husband in which I met in that church, he is my light and my escape. I also gained a very true and honest relationship with the pastor’s wife (which throughout this saga I will call her, “Lara” as a way to avoid the claims of defamation of character). My life changed for the good in some ways, in positive ways but there are details that will reveal so.

So this begins the story of religion gone too far, borderline cult treatment, man-worship of pastors and pure manipulation.  People persecuted for premarital sex, illnesses “caused by some type of spiritual hate” and non-believers who lived their lives the way they wanted to. So get ready for a religious ride you will not forget…

FUCK YOU

Here this is a great BIG FUCK YOU! A FUCK ME and a fuck everything. Fuck Bipolar, fuck me, fuck me... judge mother fuckers and let you be judged three times over. I hate all you mother fuckers who think you are better than others. So fucking superior! Fuck you ass holes who think you can look down on others after they have been fucked in ass. Yep, all you religious mother fuckers who use Jesus as your reason for making excuses, well fuck you and your religious antics too! Fuck you all. I mean fuck everyone at this point. Fuck you for joining my blog and fuck you to ALL those who don't take the time to understand those they say they are close to. If I were to die I bet there would be some ass holes that were to sit there and say how close they were to me and how they always talked to me. Don't think that will be the same for you? Well fuck you! there are always cheap shot mother fuckers who say they were there but they didn't know shit! I have been to many funerals and heard of many people who act like they were so close to the dead body and freed soul! Everyone has a time and you know what I discovered? "It's not death we humans fear, it's living through life in pain that scares us the most!"
Fuck you!!!!!

I Am Physically Falling Apart and My Mind is...

March 5, 2011

I went to the psychiatrist and found out that my medications were at the doses massively over what I am supposed to be taking. “The doses you’re on are actually meant for someone who is about 400lbs. and you’re very small and nowhere near that size”, said my psychiatrist. I was shocked; no wonder why I am falling apart. I also seen my physician (Physicians Assistant) and I was sent to get a wellness blood work-up. After receiving the results I found out that my red blood counts are very low. I researched my past blood test and the results are consistent with the abnormal results. There is something extremely wrong and I cannot pin point any of these issues. It has been difficult to find a doctor that is willing to research my issues and deficiencies, I am falling apart and I am going on the second UTI in the last 6 weeks. I used to have UTIs very often months after I had my daughter. I am wondering what the hell is going on with me. Is my body triggering my Bipolar/depression or is my Bipolar/depression triggering my body malfunctioning. I am so confused. I am hitting hard emotional times and weaning down my medications are messing with not only my body but my mind, emotions and spirit. How can I expect to make it through the anniversary of my horrific past if I can’t even live through this physical battle? Is there anyone out there? Does anyone know anything that will help me? Can I actually come out of this with a healthy body and at least a stable mental state? Someone help me please!!!

Thinkin of the Thoughts, I Thought When Suicide Was In My Mind

March 1, 2011

My heart feels a little heavy, trying to be positive and optimistic about life. I know there is so much I can accomplish. I am fearful of so many things but I am trying to let it go, not that it will mystically fly away, but I hope I can get through. I can see many amazing things in my life and I am trying to hold on tight. Not writing for a while has been something I now regret as I am relieving the pain I feel. How do you encourage yourself that you are an amazing person when you know what you have done and gone through? To be honest, I haven’t really been broken down except for recently, I was hit pretty good after hearing of the deadly experience of a young girl.
I was told that a girl in my parents’ church was comatose in the hospital, the girl attempted to commit suicide. A couple of days later the girl died, she succeeded at something I attempted several times, something I once longed for. I see this girl as being set free of her torment and pain. I am no Dr. Kevorkian, but knowing what it is like to want to die, to just want to relieve the pain that cuts so deep that the body becomes absolutely numb. Having so much pain and confusion built up inside that there seems to be no other way to live or thrive; the only relief is to die. Thinking of ending my life was something that at first seemed to be a fantasy, a love affair with an idea that would be planted in my mind and grow like cancer. I turned my pain over to whatever I could, I attempted to live through the thoughts and pain but there seemed to be no way out of the torture. Even the pure love of my kids was unable to strike the pain away. Torment and sure hate overwhelmed me and dropped me to the lowest I could be in my life. I was in limbo for a whole season, summer, the blistering heat was something I don’t even remember; but the pain of living vexed me.
Wanting to die, wanting to live and wondering who I was, threw me in a whirl-wind of life and death. Do you know what it is like to want to die? Do you ever remember a time that a gun looked so good? Did a rope, a pill or a razor call your name to soothe you? Did you ever feel so full of nothing that you just wanted to feel something? Are you even listening?
I have to listen to me, because from this day on I will have to relive the next few months preparing to live through the hate and death of my life. I will have to breathe and remember that the me I was… is not the me I can be. I don’t want to remember the desire I had for death…I want to continue to yearn for love, life and dreams come true.

Peace of mind

Help me find

I’m no stranger to pain

I’ve had my share of crazy

I want peace I have so much I can gain

I have the desire to just peacefully be

I know it is truly obtainable

I know I will survive this life

I am learning to be mentally stable

I’m learning to flourish and thrive

I am not in need of my hateful thoughts, oh so unstable

I can’t see the light when my eyes are open

I can see light when my eyes are shut

That is when I dream and forget what it could have been

I can see the scars on my arms I once cut

I want peace from my insane pain

I want to relieve the feeling these scare represent

I want to look into my own eyes in the mirror and not fear

Sanity, peace, contentment

Love and capture the positive of all that is here

In the moment soaking in the positive things this moment has to offer

Peace I will obtain to my dying day

Peace I will have knowing my Nirvana is for sure

I will have a peace, I will obtain, I will live in, My peace will never fade but it will forever stay

Psychcological Drugs V.S. Natural Remedies-Searching For My Rainbow

“Sanity is not a choice, you can’t just choose to get over it”

(Shutter Island, 2010).

I have been physically ill, no not from the stomach flu or the nasal flu but from the lovely reactions and side effects of the drugs I am currently taking. I am fighting back as much as I can, pumping myself full of all natural remedies. But, as I mentioned before, there is no straight diagnoses for those who suffer from psychological disorders, no, we are indeed test subjects (guinea pigs).
Drugs are only approved by the FDA if the drug company can show the positive effects; there are few cases in which negative effects are presented to the FDA, nor does the FDA truly look into the harm that can be done.
You see, in order for a drug to receive its license it must prove that the drug is better than a placebo; which would be easy to do since placebos are a manipulation of one's mind to believe there is some type of healing effect. I am getting on board of an uncontrolled experiment, and so are many other who have to take meds to control psychological disorders. It is difficult to think about coming off of meds, because these drugs are not easy to mess with. If you just drop your meds you are absolutely guaranteed to have an episode that will ruin or take your life. Weaning off of a medication is difficult because you are taking something away from your body and brain. You can feel the reactions and you can feel so desperate to end them. How fun to experience the negative effects of anti-depressants, anxiety controllers and antipsychotics; whether you’re adjusting to them, currently taking them or weaning off of them, the effects suck.
I have an appointment with my psychiatrist tomorrow and I am going to request that we agree to wean me off of an unnecessary drug. I am going to fight for my body, mind and spirit. Natural remedies are what I am seeking.
I discovered from a documentary that two handfuls of raw cashews have the equivalent calming effect as one dose of Prozac. Of course Prozac didn't work for me, but it was the chemicals that fucked me up, not the "calming effect" that Prozac claims. I know a lot of people will doubt most of what I am saying, but if you’re fighting for your life wouldn’t you try everything you possibly could to stay alive? Well I am. I am reading a book I probably mentioned before, The Natural Medicine Guide to Bipolar Disorder. “Although antipsychotics are ostensibly given to control delusions or hallucinations they actually have no specific effects on either” 2003) the book also includes a statement made by Dr. Peter R. Breggin, M.D., and David Cohen, Ph.D. (authors of the book Your Drug May Be Your Problem) “All neuroleptics produce an enormous variety of potentially sever and disabling neurological impairments at extraordinarily high rates of occurrences; they are among the most toxic agents ever administered to people” (2003). This is not what I want to live with any longer; this is not what I want for my body. I want health and life for me and my husband, and my beautiful kiddos.
It’s raining outside and on the way to taking my kids to school, they were awing at a beautiful rainbow. They spoke about the possibility of treasure being at the end of the rainbow, I told the kids that you could never catch a rainbow.
 Who was I to ruin my kid’s faith in life and the beauty of nature? I then excitingly told them that if they tried real hard they can catch their rainbow. I am on my journey to catch my rainbow, aren’t we all?